


You Can't Jump the Track

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Brief Violence, Firearm, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Suspicion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: Michael, a graduate student at UNM, has developed new technology to help him track down fragments of the spaceship that brought him to Earth.  He picks up a signal that leads him deep into the woods.  To a cabin.  And a man from his past.(Spoiler alert - it's Alex! With ten years of life experiences behind him that Michael could never have anticipated).
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 105
Kudos: 165





	1. We're like cars on a cable

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr.

Michael’s glad he’s wearing hiking boots.

He almost didn’t – Isobel had been the one to remind him just how rugged the terrain around Roswell could be. He’s been gone so long – he’d almost forgotten.

He’s in a wooded area now, just watching the screen of his detector. He’s getting the occasional ping of red on the display now – he’s so close.

He better be close, god. He’s in the middle of the fucking woods. He supposes that’s not a bad thing, necessarily. He’s glad he started this early – wouldn’t want to get caught out here close to sundown. Gets cold at night. _That_ he remembers.

Fuck, that was a long time ago – feels like a different life. In some ways it was. UNM was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Not only did his education allow him a path to security he hadn’t even dreamed of as a child, it was also fucking fascinating… and the perfect cover for his side project, recovering the pieces of the ship that had carried him, Max, and Isobel to Earth.

The readings he’s getting here – god, it must be a big piece. The unearthly elements emit a faint trace that he’s tracking with his detector. He loves having access to labs, equipment. He also loves having telekinesis and a big fucking alien brain. The combination makes him feel unstoppable sometimes, like he could really _do_ this, really rebuild the ship, get it functional, finally find out where they’re from, what happened.

The trees are getting thicker, and Michael rechecks his compass. He doesn’t want to get lost or disoriented. He turns around, tries to determine which direction to go to get closer to the piece of the ship he’s been tracking. Might even be multiple pieces. This far from the crash site, it’s odd. What could have taken out here to the middle of fucking –

_Click._

“Hands up. This is private property, asshole.”

Shit. Michael raises his hands, slowly.

“Whatever the _fuck_ you have in your hand, drop it.”

Michael closes his eyes. It’s a man’s voice, and he’s pissed. Figures. Figures he’s wandered onto some backwoods prepper’s land. God fucking dammit.

“Can, can I put it down?” he asks. He really doesn’t want to just drop this damn thing. It would cost thousands to replace, and while it’s sturdy, it’s not, like a tank.

“Shut up and drop it.”

Michael sighs, lets it drop.

“Kick it back to me.”

Michael rolls his eyes. Fucking really? Exhales deeply and complies, kicks it backwards. He hears shuffling. “Eyes forward.” He hears the man moving toward it, but doesn’t hear him pick it up.

“The _fuck_ is this?”

Michael swallows thickly. “It’s a tracking device.”

And as soon as the words leave his lips, he’s wincing, because he’s immediately sure that’s probably the worst thing he could have possibly said to Backwoods here.

A disbelieving laugh escapes the man. “Fucking figures. Who sent you?”

Wonderful, a conspiracy theorist. “Listen, man, I’m just a grad student from UNM. That device you’re seeing – that _very expensive_ device tracks specific elements. Rare ones. I was just following the trail and it brought me here.”

Guy scoffs a bit. “That’s a nice story. Who are you, really?”

“Fuckin’ no one, man. I really am just a grad student at UNM. I mean, I have my student ID on me if you wanna see it.”

“You’re a long fucking way from Albuquerque. Or anything, for that matter. Did you think I’d be an easy target?”

Michael takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry I trespassed on your land. I definitely didn’t mean to. I had no idea anyone even lived out here. If you just give me back my tracking device I’ll go.”

“And just leave your rare, specific elements behind?”

Fuck. He hears the man moving toward him, tenses.

“Keep your hands up and turn around. Slowly.”

Michael purses his lips. “Can you promise you won’t shoot me?”

“Long as you don’t give me reason to.”

“Fine.” Michael begins to turn, slowly.

He’s not even all the way around when he hears the gasp. “Holy shit. _Guerin?_ ”

Michael’s head jerks all the way around, and he takes in the man in front of him, who is quickly lowering his gun. Guy’s younger than he expected, but unkempt-looking. Long, dark hair pulled back into a stringy ponytail. Camouflage cap and jacket. Dark facial hair – overgrown moustache and beard. Crutches and… and one empty pant leg, knotted below the knee. And yet, there’s something familiar. Almost automatically, he moves closer, brow furrowed.

Then it hits him. It’s like seeing a movie with a familiar actor who has completely, completely changed their look for a role.

“ _Alex_?”

And in that moment, Michael _knows_. It’s him. It’s absolutely him. Underneath whatever the fuck has happened to him these last ten years, it’s absolutely Alex. Who apparently has a big-ass piece of Michael’s spaceship somewhere on his property.


	2. Life's Like an Hourglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex wants to learn more about the tracker. And Michael.

Michael’s sipping his coffee (bitter, black), concentrating on it, trying hard not to stare at Alex, or the frankly _insane_ décor in the cabin – all dead animals and plaids. It smells of smoke and stuffiness, and for about the eightieth time in the last half hour he’s wondering what the _hell_ happened these past ten years.

Because when he does steal glances at Alex, it’s all wrong. Like, if it wasn’t for Alex’s initial reaction to him out in the woods, he’d think for sure this was just a lookalike, a cousin, a brother – he knows Alex had older brothers. But surely not Alex, not _his_ Alex – shit, not the Alex he remembers, that is. The one who was pretty much the embodiment of two big middle fingers raised right at the Roswell establishment, while at the same time showing more care and concern for Michael than any other person had on the face of this Earth.

He’d thought about Alex, over the years. Of course he had. Less and less, honestly, the older he got and the more entrenched he’d become in grad school, in his life at UNM. Little things would remind him of Alex, though – an emo undergrad playing guitar in the quad, the sound of Brendon Urie’s voice, mentions of the military. And sex. Sometimes. When he had sex with men, he’d sometimes think about Alex. About how things had been with them. About what could have been.

He’d tried to look up Alex a few times, with little success. Alex Manes wasn’t an uncommon name, and he’d had little success. He supposes that he could have tried harder, but maybe a part of him didn’t want to… if he’s honest with himself, he didn’t want to read that Alex was dead in some desert, fighting someone else’s war. Good days, he wondered if he’d gotten out – served a safe four-year commitment then hightailed it somewhere better. Of his choosing. Nashville? California?

Fucking anywhere but here. This… this never crossed his mind.

Alex is sitting on a recliner, an old, tattered-looking thing, sipping at his coffee slowly. He’s been quiet since realizing who Michael was – seems apologetic for threatening to shoot him, even if those words aren’t actually said. When Michael finally does look up, he’s met by dark eyes, staring at him.

Caught, Alex clears his throat. “So. Grad student, UNM?”

“Yup,” Michael nods quickly.

“Did your undergrad there, too, right?”

Michael’s a little surprised that Alex remembers. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Alex bobs his head consideringly. “So, out there, you weren’t lying? About being out there for school? You really didn’t know,” he pauses, swallows. “Didn’t know this was my place?”

“No, definitely not,” Michael says, and he’s surprised to see the quick flare of disappointment cross Alex’s features before it quickly fades to something more closed-off.

“Hmm,” Alex murmurs thoughtfully. “What are you studying? Geology or something?”

“Astrophysics, actually.”

Alex’s raises his eyebrows halfway up his fucking forehead, and Michael almost laughs, because it’s the most familiar he’s looked to him this whole afternoon. “Wow,” Alex finally says. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were a genius. Too good for this shit town.”

“So were you,” Michael says reflexively, then winces. Because Alex is _still_ in this shit town, looking considerably worse for wear.

Alex blows out a breath. “Won’t argue with you there.” He eyes Michael. “Can’t say there haven’t been times I wished I’d taken you up on your offer.”

Michael’s eyes widen and he can’t, can’t totally believe he’s hearing this, that Alex brought _that_ up. He swallows thickly and isn’t sure what to say. That was the last time he’d ever seen Alex, before this morning. Alex, with half his face covered in pancake makeup that was doing a half-ass job at concealing the bruises. Michael knew, if he could see under his cap, his gown, his clothes underneath that there would be more bruises. It’s the first he’d been allowed out since the shed – even Jesse realized it would look fucking suspicious if his son didn’t attend his own graduation. Michael had cornered him in the auditorium before they all marched out.

“I’ve got a full ride. Come with me.”

“What? Guerin, stop, if someone tells him we were talking – “

“Oh _fuck_ him!” Michael’d half-yelled, through gritted teeth. Liz Ortecho had turned toward them, looked concerned, he remembered.

Alex had dropped his head. Lifted his cap a little, revealing an uneven buzz-cut, nearly shaved. It was then Michael noticed that the piercings were gone, too.

“It’s too late. It’s done.”

Michael remembers how the rising panic had felt, the way he’d felt too-warm in his skin. “What, what’s done?” Alex had been silent. “Alex?” he’d pleaded.

“I’m 18. Just turned. And I… I enlisted. Air Force. I ship out in two days.”

And with that, Alex had replaced his cap on his head, pushed past Michael to find his place in the alphabetical order lineup. And Michael… Michael never crossed the stage. Was too busy retching in the bathroom.

He’d tried to connect again, before Alex left, but it was no use. Went so far as to park his truck in Alex’s neighborhood and watch his window in the middle of the night, but didn’t approach. Hated the idea of making things even worse for Alex.

Looking at him now, he thinks he should have blown out every window in the whole Manes residence, marched Alex out, burned down the house. And certainly the shed.

He refocuses on Alex, who’s got a thousand-yard stare going at the moment, just sipping his coffee.

“You… you went Air Force, right?”

Alex scoffs a little. “I went, alright. Did three tours. Got this nice souvenir,” he gestures to what remains of his right leg, “on my last deployment.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael says. “When was that?”

“Almost two years now.”

Michael glances around the cabin. Everything in it looks old. “And how long you been here?”

“Little over a year. You remember Jim Valenti? The Sheriff?”

“Sure. Kyle’s dad.”

Alex makes a face. “Yeah. Left it to me in his will. Along with the décor.”

Michael nods, makes a show of looking around. “Yeah, I was gonna say, didn’t really seem like your style.”

Alex cocks his head a bit.

“Not, not that I really know what your style is. It’s been, god, it’s been a long time.”

“Ten years this month,” Alex says, matter-of-factly, eyes skimming over Michael with… interest? Not, not anything overt, but it’s there. Michael’s not sure how he feels about that, exactly. Alex blows out a breath, sets down his coffee mug. “So if you’re studying astrophysics, then let me guess, those rare, specific elements? Not of this earth, yeah?”

Michael smiles a little. Still sharp. “You guessed it.”

“So, like, you looking for fragments of a meteorite or something?”

Or something. “Yup,” Michael says.

“And that device shows if you’re getting close?”

“Sure does.”

Alex leans forward a little in his chair. Peers at it. “Is it on now?”

“Now? No, I turned it off out there. Before you made me drop it on the ground.”

Alex actually has the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “Yeah, about that… I’m sorry. I, I don’t really get out much, and the cabin’s pretty far from anything else, so when I saw that someone had broken the perimeter, I… I just didn’t want to take any chances.”

Michael’s staring at him. “Broken the perimeter?”

Alex closes his eyes for a second, nods. “Yeah, I, uh, I have cameras, alarms… I, uh, I did some shit in the military. And, um, my dad’s a real ass. As you know.”

Michael inhales sharply, flexes his left hand. “Sure do.”

“Honestly, he’s 95% of the reason I have the security measures I do. The way he’s tried to mess with my life, you’d think I was developing nuclear weapons, not fucking other dudes.”

Michael’s eyes widen at Alex’s casual statement. “It, it just you here right now?”

Alex laughs outright at that. “Look around, what do you think?” His laughter fades away quickly after that, leaving only a tense silence. Alex has dropped his head and is just staring at his lap, one hand on the end of his ponytail. “This meteorite,” Alex says slowly. “If there were fragments on my property, it wouldn’t… wouldn’t be like a big thing, would it?”

Michael stares at him, confused.

“Lots of people, I mean. Press.” Alex looks uncomfortable. “Since I… ah, since I got out, I haven’t really been the best around people, you know?”

Michael’s quick to reassure him. “No, no, if there even _is_ anything here,” and there certainly is, ”it would probably be just me.” It would definitely be just him, since UNM has no idea he’s been using University funding to pursue this particular side project.

Alex’s eyes narrow a bit at that. “Huh. Well. Okay. You I can deal with,” he says with a little smile, and Michael’s not sure if that’s a threat or… something else. “Can you show me how it works?”

He, he can’t really say no, at this point. And after dropping the tracker, and kicking it, he should probably make sure it still works. “Sure,” he says, picking it up off the coffee table.

“You come up with this yourself?”

“I did, actually,” Michael says, hint of pride in his voice. He fiddles with the device, turns it on, and –

“Shit!” Michael yells, reflexively kicking out both legs at the piercing sound the device is emitting.

“Fuck!” Alex exclaims, putting his hands over his ears. “What the _fuck_?”

The device is, is fucking _wailing_. Michael’s never, never heard it this loud, has never seen a signal this strong. It’s, it’s like they’re sitting right fucking on top of it. Michael scrambles to turn it off. “Fuck, Alex, I’m so sorry. It, it’s usually not that loud.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It, it gets louder the stronger the signal is. Lemme turn off the noise. I can still see the – “

“Michael.”

Michael freezes. “Yeah?”

“Michael, did… did you kick the coffee table?”

“Shit, I think I did when the tracking device went off. Sorry about that. I’ll move it back into – “

“No. Look.”

Michael looks. Swallows hard. “Um, did you know that was there?” If he’s looking at what he _thinks_ he’s looking at, there’s a trap door in the floor, perfectly covered by the normal placement of the coffee table.

“No,” Alex says shortly, eyes drawn to the floor. “Haven’t, haven’t really been in the mood to decorate since I moved in.” He looks at Michael. “Can you move this even more?” he asks, gesturing to the coffee table.

“Of course.” It’s a heavy table, probably on purpose, Michael thinks, and he uses a little hint of power to help slide the table out of the way, exposing a hatch. He whistles, low. “Your call, Alex.”

Alex grabs his crutches and scoots to the edge of the recliner. Raises himself out of the chair and shoves his phone in his cargo pants. Palms his gun. Once he’s next to Michael, he gives a quick nod. “Open it.”

Michael lifts the hatch, exposing a ladder. “May I?” he asks, holding up his phone. Alex gives a nod of assent, and Michael illuminates the shaft below them. There’s a ladder and what looks like an open area. “Bunker,” Michael murmurs.

“What the fuck was Jim up to?” Alex wonders. He glances at Michael. “Look, I wanna know what’s down there, but I totally understand if you don’t want to – “

“No, I do.”

“Good. Let me put my leg on. I’m coming too.”

Michael frowns. “You sure, man?” Alex fixes him with a dark look, and he shuts up. He watches as Alex disappears down a hall, coming back with a utilitarian-looking prosthetic limb. Michael tries to strike the right balance between nonchalant and creepy as he watches Alex deftly attach the prosthetic. He doesn’t bother with a shoe. 

“Students first,” Alex finally says with a little smirk, and Michael rolls his eyes, begins to descend the ladder. He finds a light switch just as Alex drops to the ground next to him. “Well, shit,” Alex says, taking it in.

It looks like, like an office space. There’s a very out of date computer and large metal cabinets.

“I can’t believe this has been here the whole time. Shit,” Alex says. He runs his hand along the keyboard, feels the computer. He must press something, because it starts whirring to life. Michael turns to him, and Alex shrugs. “I, uh, was a codebreaker. In the Air Force.”

Michael raises an eyebrow approvingly. “I can see it.”

Alex holds his gaze, and there’s a spark of… something, quickly gone when Alex points to the device in Michael’s hand. “Turn it on. Whatever you’re looking for, maybe it’s down here. Like, maybe Jim was into rock collecting.”

Michael swallows hard. “I dunno, don’t want to blow out our eardrums again.”

Alex frowns. “Thought you said you could turn the sound off.”

Michael forces a quick chuckle. “Yeah, oops, let me do that real quick.” He’s hyperaware of Alex’s attention on him, on the device. He turns it on, and it’s immediately clear to him that whatever it’s detecting, it’s big, and it’s somewhere in this room with them.

He can’t shake Alex, either. “Those numbers,” he says, pointing. “I’m guessing the higher they are, the closer the sample, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he takes the device from Michael.

“Hey – “

Alex is holding the device out in different directions, moving wherever the signal is strongest. Michael watches helplessly as he opens a metal cabinet. And drops the device.

Because there, in front of them, encased in glass, is the largest spaceship fragment Michael’s ever seen.

Alex grips his gun tighter, turns toward Michael. “That is _not_ a fucking meteorite.”


	3. Glued to the table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex attempt to process their bunker discovery.

Michael looks at Alex, at the way his eyes are darting from the spaceship fragment, to the tracker, to Michael, back to the spaceship fragment. At the way his hand is gripping the gun at his side… And in that instant, Michael makes the decision to play dumb. Dumb as a grad student in astrophysics can get, anyway.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, stepping closer to the fragment. “Are, are you seeing this?”

“Fuck yes I’m seeing it. What the hell is it?”

Michael leans closer, makes a show of looking it over. “It’s not… not like anything I’ve ever seen.”

Alex licks his lips, approaches carefully. “Looks like, like a piece of tech to me. Like some kind of weird glass or something.”

“Wow,” Michael makes himself say, reaching out a hand to toward the glass case holding the fragment.

Alex brings his own hand up to block Michael from touching the case. “Might, might be behind glass for a reason, you know? You… you see anything like this before?”

“Never,” Michael says quickly.

“So…” Alex says slowly, holding up the tracker. “You’re telling me that this… tracking device has never picked up anything like this before?”

“No.”

Alex is eyeing Michael in a careful way. “Then this is a hell of a discovery.”

Michael scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”

“Well, you’re the fancy grad student,” Alex says, and there’s something about his tone… “What do you think it is?”

“Can’t know for sure till I get it into a lab. Study it.”

There’s Alex’s hand again, twitching against his gun. “Got a guess?”

Michael takes a deep breath. “I, I think you had the right idea. Looks like some kind of, like, glass-like substance. Don’t know exactly what, though.”

“Or what it’s doing _here_.”

Michael snorts a little. “Yeah, fuck, that’s a whole other question. My god. This was Jim Valenti’s old place, you said?”

Alex looks at him a long moment before answering. Seems to come to some sort of decision in his head, because he takes a deep breath, then suddenly the tension in his body eases, he removes his hand from the gun. “Yeah, this was Jim’s place. And he apparently had some secrets, huh?”

“Uh, _yeah_.”

Alex actually gives him a little smile, at that. “This is a lot.”

“For sure,” Michael reassures him.

“Like, just the fact that this bunker’s even here was a lot, let alone finding something crazy like this down here, right under my nose.” He eyes Michael. “I dunno about you, but I could use a drink.”

Michael cocks an eyebrow.

Alex shrugs. “I mean, you can have coffee, if you want, but I need something stronger.”

It’s like 2pm. Michael would prefer to just grab the piece and go, but he’s also concerned about pissing off Alex. Who knows what the fuck else is in that bunker? And Alex knows who he is. Like, his bio’s on the UNM website. He’s not exactly anonymous. And he’s here without UNM’s knowledge, using a tracker cobbled together from stolen supplies. He’d be in deep shit if Alex would, like, lodge a complaint with the department or something.

“What do you say? Let me get back up this ladder, and we can take five. Talk about our next steps?”

It seems reasonable. And Alex was military. Presumably has experience with teamwork and all that shit.

“Sounds like a plan, Manes.”

Alex nods. Pockets the tracker and heads up the ladder. He’s careful with the prosthetic on the ladder, Michael notes. Alex finally gets to the top, with Michael not far behind.

By the time Michael pokes his head out of the bunker hatch, Alex is already standing in the little kitchen area of the cabin. “What can I get you?” he asks. “I’ve got coffee, whiskey?”

“What the hell, how about a shot of whiskey, after what we just found?” Michael’s car is parked down off the main road, probably miles from here. He’ll need Alex to drive him back down there, and if Alex is having a drink too, they’ll have to wait at least a little while, so Michael figures he might as well imbibe a bit.

Alex smiles. “Here, I’ll get the good stuff.”

The “good stuff,” in this case, is a cheap, half-empty bottle of Old Crow, which Michael doesn’t think he’s had since his early days at UNM. Alex sets two mismatched glasses on the counter, blows out some dust, then rubs at them with a towel. Turns around and, when he finally faces Michael, he can see that Alex has given him a _very_ generous pour.

“Thanks, man,” he says, accepting the glass. He takes a small sip. “Whew,” he says. “Strong shit right there.”

“Is indeed,” says Alex, sipping at his own glass with nary a flinch. “So, what are you thinking, with that… that glass down there?”

“I mean, if you’re cool with it, I’d like to take it back to UNM with me, ideally.”

Alex frowns a little. “When are you headed back?”

Michael shrugs. “Well, I’ve got a hotel room here in town for a few days yet. Wasn’t sure how long this would take, or even if I’d find anything.”

“You need to let anyone know you’re out here?”

Michael looks up at him. “What, like my lab? I’ve actually got the beginning of the summer off. Supposed to be working on my dissertation.”

Alex chuckles a little. “I, ah, I was actually thinking more along the lines of, like, a girlfriend or something.” He pauses, raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

The whiskey is already harsh going down, and it’s worse now, when he’s swallowed more than he meant to in the wake of that comment. “Fuck,” Michael says, wincing. “Jesus, this stuff has a burn, doesn’t it?” He blows out a breath. “Not seeing anyone at the moment, Manes. Kinda married to my research right now.” He laughs a little, swirls his glass. “Like, I can’t even keep a houseplant right now, let alone a significant other.”

Alex nods a little. “Guess your schedule’s pretty flexible then, in case we have to take some time sorting through everything down in that bunker.”

Michael nods. “Yeah, totally.”

Alex looks satisfied at that, looks down at his glass. “You were right about this shit being pretty hot. Mind getting me something to water this down a little?”

Michael’s up quickly. “Sure.” He crosses to the kitchen, and opens a cabinet, only to find it bare. Tries another one, and all that’s in it are a bunch of canned goods. “Hey Alex,” he calls off-handedly. “Where do you keep your – “

He doesn’t even see the crutch before it’s hitting him in the face.


	4. No one can find the rewind button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has some questions for Michael about who he is... and what he is.

He’s confused when he wakes up. Head heavy, limbs stiff and sore. Then it hits him. It’s been… it’s been almost fifteen years now. Since he’s gotten knocked out. It only happened a few times, back then, but that was more than enough to leave an impression. Fuck. He forces himself to breathe, get some clarity. Skims his tongue along his teeth, works his jaw a bit. Seems, seems like the worst of the blow caught him on the side of the face, near the temple and ear. The blow… _shit_.

He jerks his head up suddenly and sees him. Alex. Casually lounging in his recliner, placid expression on his face.

“Finally,” Alex says, matter-of-fact.

And Michael feels _so_ stupid. He, he shouldn’t have come back to the cabin with Alex. Probably shouldn’t have, fuck, shouldn’t have gone searching in the woods for pieces of the ship in the first place, all on his own like that. Hadn’t Max warned him? He’d never liked the fact that Michael had gone into astrophysics, let alone that he was researching their home planet, trying to piece together their ship. Max is going to kill him.

If… if Alex doesn’t do the job first.

Michael takes a deep breath. Okay. Okay. He’s a genius. He, he’s dealt with super shitty situations in the past. As he’s becoming more with it, he can tell he’s got a cut on the side of his head, where the metal of the crutch must have made contact. He can smell the blood, feel where the skin feels tight and crusted over. And like the feeling of being knocked out, he realizes, with a start, that it’s been years. Years since anyone’s been violent to him, drawn blood.

In fact, the last person was a Manes, too.

He eyes Alex. He’s taken off the camouflage jacket and hat, exposing a tight-fitting white t-shirt, worn thin with use, a little stained around the neck and underarms. Without the hat it’s easier to see his face, his bone structure that’s sharper now, compared to when they were kids. The prosthetic leg is still on, along with the cargo pants. Gun’s in his hand. He’s not smiling.

Michael glances down at himself, sees that he’s tied up, tightly, to a chair. He strains a little at the bonds, testing them. Tight as hell. Like he expected any different from G.I. Alex, here. Well, he at least has an ace up his sleeve. All he really needs is at least a _little_ give and…

Shit.

He tries again.

Holy fuck.

There’s nothing.

No, no powers. Not a damn hint of them.

Since he first found out he could move things, back in the group home, he’s never, _never_ been totally without his powers. Had difficulties controlling them, yes, but there’s never been just, just a fucking void.

He was concerned, before. Now he’s scared.

He looks down at the ropes again. They’re so tight. He’s not, not getting out on his own. And then he sees it.

Blood. On the ropes. Not… not his. Old-looking, a rusty brown. Soaked through, in places.

He looks up at Alex in alarm. “Alex?” he forces out, and he hates how frightened he sounds.

Alex just tilts his head, narrows his eyes.

Michael looks down at the ropes again. Is he… is he not the first one Alex has done this to? Have there been others, out in the woods that he’s, like, picked off? A lost hiker or something? Is Alex… could it be that Alex is some sort of, like, sociopath?

Michael swallows hard. Alex’s dad… Alex’s dad might be a sociopath. Like for real. But Alex was different, right? Back in school, he’d cared about Michael, or seemed to. He was kind to him.

But high school was a long time ago. And god knows Michael has changed. Looking at Alex again, all cold-eyed, down a limb, brandishing a weapon, Michael knows that Alex has changed, too.

He just wonders how much.

He notices his cell phone and the contents of his wallet laid out neatly on the coffee table, the one that’s still pushed to the side of the room, revealing the bunker hatch. It makes him uncomfortable, to think that Alex went through his pockets while he was out cold, that he hadn’t even noticed. Within minutes of meeting him in the woods, Alex had made reference to their shared past, to his sexual preferences. He… he’d seen the way Alex had looked at him, earlier, and while it had been kind of flattering at the time, it just unsettled him now, made him wonder what it was that Alex wanted from him, exactly.

And the fact that he doesn’t have his powers… what the hell has Alex done? And what does he know? Michael tries to think. It… it’s possible that Alex doesn’t know he’s an alien, doesn’t know about his powers. He doesn’t think he used his powers at all this morning. Maybe Jim Valenti knew? Reinforced this cabin with something that’s blocking him?

Alex is out of the recliner now, walking toward Michael. Michael flinches back when he leans in close, can’t help it.

That seems to startle Alex a bit, at least momentarily, then he’s pulling a kitchen chair up close to Michael, directly across from him. Sitting down.

“Who are you, really?”

Michael lets out a disbelieving little gasp. “I… you serious right now?”

Alex just glares at him.

Michael shakes his head. “In case you’ve _forgotten_ , Alex, I’m Michael Guerin, and we _grew up_ together. Went to school together. I lived in your fucking tool shed for a month before your dad smashed my god damn – “

“ _Stop,_ ” Alex commands, voice cold. “I get, get that you know that shit.” He’s looking over Michael now, searching for… for what, Michael doesn’t know. “Are you really him?”

Michael scoffs. “Am I really who, me?” He nods his head in the direction of the coffee table. “Fuck, Alex, you’ve got my IDs and everything. Don’t think I’ve changed _that_ much in ten years. You can look me up on the UNM website. There’s a bad picture and everything. Of course I’m me.” He swallows. “Who, who else would I be?”

Alex’s hands are in his lap. He’s tightening them as he responds. “Skinwalker. Shapeshifter.”

Oh fuck. Great. So he’s insane. Totally batshit insane. “What the fuck are you talking about, man?”

Alex’s face is still cold, unreadable. “You, you look like the Michael Guerin I knew. You obviously have his, his memories and shit. His,” Alex swallows, “his body. His credit cards and everything.”

“Because I’m me, Alex, my god!” Michael exclaims. “You, you been watching too much Supernatural.”

And Alex, he actually chuckles a little at that, breaking some of the tension. “I… it is on Netflix, and I’ve had quite a bit of downtime these past two years,” he says. His amusement is short-lived, though. “What I’m trying to figure out,” Alex says carefully, “is how long you’ve been using him. If you chose this – “ he gestures at Michael, “appearance specifically to get to me. Or…” he swallows hard. “Or if this has really been you, the whole time. Even back to…“ He trails off, looks away.

And Michael’s really scared now. Because either Alex is totally delusional, or he has some real knowledge that Michael is… different. And hasn’t that always been the capital-F Fear in his life? That someone will find him out, find Max and Isobel out? That they’ll end up studied, dissected in a lab somewhere?

It’s worse that it’s Alex. Someone he, until now, always thought of fondly, bittersweetly. Alex knows him, too. Well, knew him. Knew he used to hang out with Max and Isobel. If he really was a codebreaker in the military, he could presumably track them down, too. Michael can’t, can’t mention them. However this goes down, he has to contain it just to him as best he can.

Max had warned him about this. Warned him about his big ass ego, his research and the risks it carried. “Icarus,” he’d called him, in a dramatic fight once upon a time.

He hopes he gets the chance to beg forgiveness.

“I’m me, Alex,” Michael says softly, because under the grizzled exterior, he thinks that maybe Alex has at least _some_ fondness for his 17-year-old self. And maybe he can use that. “I’ve always been me.”

Alex blows out a breath, stares at Michael. “Then what _are_ you, exactly?”

Michael shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lets his eyes go wide. “You’re scaring me.” It’s not a lie.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Michael.”

Michael scoffs. “You’ve already hurt me! Knocked me out with your god damn crutch!”

Alex blows out a breath. “I’m gonna ask you again. What are you?”

“Grad student. Astrophysics, UNM.”

Alex’s hand twitches, and Michael thinks, for a moment, that Alex might hit him. He doesn’t.

“You do this shit in the military?” Michael asks, tone cold now. “Tie people up? Hit ‘em? Ask them impossible questions?”

Alex’s jaw goes tight. “No,” he says finally. “Other shit. Bad shit. But not, not that.”

Michael cocks his head to the side. “Well maybe you missed your calling. Or lost your damn mind.”

“Shut up,” Alex hisses. “I… I need _something_ , Michael. Like, I know you’re lying to me, I just don’t know how much is a lie.” He actually looks, looks a little desperate. “ _Please_.”

Michael just glares at him.

Alex’s mouth twists a bit, and he looks down. Composes himself? Because when he looks back up, his face is very blank again. “I played around with that tracker while you were out. Funny thing. Definitely works just like you said, with that glass. The further I got from it, the lower the numbers went. But, oddly enough, they started climbing back up. When it came close to you.”

Shit.

Fucking shit. This. This was always the fatal flaw in the tracker, the reason why no one else had seen it or used it yet. The reason why Michael’s doing everything on his own (well, that and the whole “stolen materials” shit…). Because those otherworldly elements making up the spaceship? Yeah. They’re floating around inside him, too.

And he looks at Alex, then, and he knows he’s just given himself away. He’s not, not a professional here. No training in fucking counter-interrogation, or whatever this shit is. He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Knows he has to say _something_.

“I…Why should I tell you a damn thing right now, Alex? How do I know you’re not going to fucking shoot me through the skull, regardless of what I say?” Alex glares at him. “These… these ropes have blood all over them. Have… have you done this before? Here?” Michael hears the fear in his voice again, at that.

Alex sits down heavily in the chair. “Look. I… I know this is shitty. But I just… god.” He’s running his hand through his hand. “This goes against every ounce of training I have, but I’m gonna throw you a bone, because I want some real information, too. Those ropes are Jim’s. They’re old. I think he used them to, like, drag deer back, that he’d shot. I’d never… I’ve never. Fuck.” Alex bites his lip. “You really think I’d…?”

He’s quiet, just looking at Michael, and finally his shoulders slump. “Michael. I need you to tell me the truth. Because if this is who you are, if, if this is really you I’m talking to right now, then you know… you _know_ how much I hate my father. You know what a bad, bad guy he is.” He shakes his head. “But I swear to god, if you don’t give me something right now, I’m calling him. Calling him and telling him everything that’s happened since you showed up this morning. Everything I’ve found.” Alex exhales. “And I’d really rather not do that. But it’s your choice.” He takes a deep breath, and his face goes chilly again. “So I’m asking you. One more time. What are you?”

And if it comes down to this, Michael throwing himself on the mercy of a Manes, it’s going to be Alex. Every time.

“I’m me, Alex,” he says, slowly. “Same as I’ve always been. But what I’ve always been is… an alien.”


	5. So cradle your head in your hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex reacts to Michael's reveal that he is an alien.

Whatever reaction Michael is expecting… this isn’t it.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Alex just, just crumples. Turns away from Michael, fast, as if he doesn’t want him to witness this. He’s bringing a hand up to his mouth now. Michael’s straining against the ropes, trying to take in details, desperately attempting to piece together what exactly is going on. Gun’s still on the coffee table, far out of reach, thank god. Alex has stepped farther away from him now, is actually leaving the room, going down a hall.

Michael swallows nervously. Is, is he getting something? Like, to use on him? Threaten him with?

It’s a long five minutes or so before Alex returns and, really, he’s looking at Michael as if nothing ever happened. Sits down in the chair, calmly.

“We need to talk. About what you just told me.”

Michael’s quiet. Alex looks at him expectantly, until it’s clear that Michael has no intention of responding. “I, I owe you some information, too. I’m thinking we take turns. Like, you get a question, then I get a question. All I ask is that we’re honest with each other. Like, if you don’t want to answer, just say that, but I don’t… don’t want us to lie to each other.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one tied to the chair right now.”

“No,” Alex acknowledges, but makes no move to untie him or offer any other assistance. “Why don’t you go first? Ask, ask me anything.”

Michael debates even responding, for a minute, but the curiosity is too great. “Did you know aliens were real? Before, like, ten minutes ago?”

“No,” Alex says tightly. “Not for sure.” He crosses his arms across his chest. “My turn.”

“Hey, hey!” Michael protests. “I think you owe me a little more than that.”

Alex eyes him warily. “My dad. My dad, he… he warned me. About aliens. I thought he was lying. Or… or insane.”

Michael feels cold. “Your, your dad?” Jesse fucking Manes? “What, what did he say?”

Alex sighs. “That’s like your third question in a row. It’s my turn now.” He purses his lips. “What is that piece of glass, really?”

Michael has no reason to trust him. None. He lured him back here to the cabin, knocked him out, somehow took away his powers. And yet…

He thinks he might need him. Definitely needs him to untie him, let him go eventually. Needs him to give him access to the bunker and all its contents, including the big hunk of spaceship. Yes, unfortunately Alex holds all the cards right now, with an apparently well-honed bullshit detector.

So Michael answers him. “I think it’s part of a spaceship.”

“A, a spaceship?”

“Yup.” Alex looks thoughtful. “My turn again,” Michael is quick to say. He knows he should ask about what Jesse knows. Maybe figure out if Alex knows his powers are blocked. Get some additional information about what Alex wants with him. But at the moment, there’s only one thing, top of his mind.

“What the hell happened to you?”

He, he thinks it hurts Alex, the question. He didn’t necessarily intend that, and he’s startled to find that he’s actually disappointed. In himself. But no, _no._ Alex tied him _up,_ knocked him _out_ –

“My dad happened. You were there for some of that, unfortunately,” Alex says wearily. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that whole situation. And that just, just set everything in motion. The Air Force. The deployments. The leg and the discharge and the shitty recovery.”

Michael frowns. “But, but why are you _here,_ like _this_?”

Alex gives a barky little laugh. “You figure that out, and maybe I can stop seeing my psychologist at the VA.” He’s quiet, then. “There… there’s more to it than just that, but… but that’s all I’m going to say about it right now, okay?”

Michael glares a little, shrugs. “Not okay, but you’re kinda holding all the cards here, Manes.”

Alex exhales deeply and looks at Michael. Eyes him, up and down. Almost unconsciously, Michael presses himself backwards in the chair. Alex opens his mouth, closes it. Takes a breath and opens it again. “What can you do?”

Michael gives him a quizzical look.

“You’re an alien. What, what’s your power?”

Michael’s quiet as Alex looks at him expectantly. He debates telling Alex he won’t answer, but he doesn’t want to piss him off. “I can move things. With my mind,” he finally says.

Alex sags a little in his chair. “Wow. Okay. Can you prove it?”

Michael snorts a little. “That’s another question, and… and you know I can’t prove it, not right now.”

“Shit…” Alex whispers. “Oh my god, it works.”

Michael stares at him. “I’ll take my question now. What did you give me?”

Alex’s jaw tightens. “Pollen. Put it in the whiskey.”

Michael lets his head fall to his chest. “Wow. Shame on me, huh? Accepting a drink from a stranger.” He thinks he detects at least a little regret on Alex’s face. “What kind of pollen?”

Alex holds his gaze. “We’re pretty bad at this alternating questions thing.” Michael scoffs a little. “But I’ll answer,” he says. “I don’t know what it is, exactly. My… my dad gave it to me. While ago. Said, said that if I ever got myself into trouble, with an alien, I could use that and it would stop them. Stop their powers.” Alex eyes Michael’s bonds. “I take it it worked?”

“Your dad? Your dad gave you this?”

Alex nods.

“Well shit. Thought you said you and your dad didn’t get along.”

“We don’t, we really don’t, but… fuck, Michael, he scared me. Told me about aliens and tried to scare the shit out of me. I thought he was out of his mind but – “

“But not enough to throw this shit out and tell him to screw himself, huh?”

Alex gives a frustrated sigh. “No. I guess not.” He’s staring at Michael again in that unnerving way. “Moving stuff. Is that _really_ your only power?” There’s an edge of desperation to his voice that Michael can’t quite comprehend.

“Yeah,” he replies. Pauses. “Why… is there something else you think I can do?”

Alex’s brow is furrowed. “Like, you can’t… can’t make people feel things? Get, get in their heads?”

Ah. “No,” Michael says, a little gentler now. “No, I can’t.” He stares at Alex. “Why’d you knock me out?”

Alex’s mouth twists around a little. “You were lying to me. About the glass. You said you’d never seen anything like it before, but your body language, respiration – they were all telling a different story.” The side of his mouth quirks up. “And I figured if _I’ve_ seen something like that before, then you probably had, too.”

“Wait, what?” Michael gapes at him. “Where have _you_ seen something like that?”

“The Emporium.”

Michael actually laughs a little at that. “Shit, Manes, that’s right. God.” He shakes his head. “You know, most of the stuff there is shit, but there are a few legit pieces.”

Alex looks at him a beat too long. “It’s the same thing at the warehouse.”

Michael stills. This is the first he’s hearing about a warehouse. “What?”

Alex licks his lips. “Yeah. First summer I worked there, um, Grant Green had me working at the warehouse three days a week. Cleaning stuff, labeling. Like you said, most stuff is complete shit, but… but I always thought that some of the stuff was actually pretty convincing. Like this one big piece of glass that glowed when you touched it.” Alex quirks an eyebrow. “Always wondered how Green managed that trick. Guess now we know.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, slowly, shocked at the news, shocked that Alex is _telling_ him this. “Where is this warehouse, exactly?” He’s sure he’d find it, eventually, with his tracker, but getting Alex to tell him would be so much easier.

Alex’s gaze drops to his lap. “Um, I think it’s my turn for a question.”

And he knew it was too good to be true.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

Michael cocks his head to the side. “Right now? I’m trying to answer your questions to the best of my ability so you can untie me and let me go.”

“With the spaceship parts,” Alex says, flat and unamused.

“Oh, you mean like, am I trying to take you over? Dominate Earth.”

Alex frowns. “That’s not funny, Guerin.”

“No,” Michael says, straining at his ropes for emphasis, “it’s not. _This_ isn’t.” He sighs. “Not sure how much you remember of me, from high school,” Alex’s jaw clicks a little, at that, “but things were pretty shitty. Never really had a, a place. A home. I’m hoping that if I can put my ship back together, the ship that brought my people here, maybe I can study it, figure how to use it to find answers. About who I am. Why I’m here.”

Alex looks thoughtful. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he finally says. “While you were knocked out, I hid the piece of the spaceship and the tracker.”

“What?”

“So if I cut you loose, then you can’t just take me out and do whatever the hell you want.”

Michael’s feeling mad now. “Who the fuck do you think I am, Alex?”

Beneath Alex’s coldness, there a trace of sadness. “I really don’t know. That’s what’s making this really hard. Because… because ten years ago, I thought I knew. But I’m realizing now that even then, I…” he trails off. “I didn’t.” He swallows. “I’m going to cut you loose. Drive you to your car. If you want that ship piece and tracker, you better not try to hurt me or, or pull any tricks, you know? You wanna get in your car and head straight back to Albuquerque? Fine by me. But if you want to work together on this, have continued access to the bunker and the stuff in it, then we meet somewhere tomorrow. Somewhere neutral. Continue this conversation. Frankly, I don’t want to see you back here till we know a little more about each other. Trust each other a little more.”

Michael scoffs. “That’s gonna take some doing.”

“Yeah.” Alex sighs. “What do you say?”

“Put your gun away first. Back room, something. If you untie me, I don’t want you fuckin’ shooting me in the back. And I don’t need you to drive me to my car.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Yes you do. You’re miles away and it’s getting dark. You don’t know these woods.”

“How do I know you’re not gonna drive me straight to a lab? To your dad?”

Alex winces. “Fair question. I…” He frowns. “I’ll leave my gun here.”

“Like you don’t have one in the car, too?”

Alex lifts an eyebrow. “Not bad, Guerin. What do you suggest?”

“I… I don’t even know!” Michael says. “I just, god, I want to get out of here. Like, I need to not be tied to a damn chair and grilled about things I’ve _never_ told anyone, okay? But, but I also need answers. So… I’m gonna give you my word. I promise not to do anything to hurt you if you let me go.” He swallows. “I… I wouldn’t do that, Alex. Not to you, okay?” He thinks he sees… something, in Alex’s eyes, at that. Something of the Alex he used to know, those many years ago. “Can you promise the same?”

“Yeah, Michael,” Alex says, softer than before. “I promise.”


	6. And breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex meet at a neutral location to decide how to move forward.

Michael’s had second, third, tenth thoughts about this meeting today. Maybe he should have just gotten in his car and headed straight back to Albuquerque. He, he’s a genius. Like, whether he reconstructs a fucking spaceship or not, he’s going places. He’s going to get grant funding, going to get hired, going to get tenured somewhere. Like, he has a massive advantage. His brain, it just… it just works better than human brains, when it comes to this shit.

But… but would he ever be satisfied with anything other than putting his ship back together, finding some answers about where he’s from? It’s the whole reason he’s an astrophysicist, the entire purpose behind all his years of school, all the effort he’s put in. He didn’t come this far to let Alex Fucking Manes, of all god damn people, get in his way.

They said they’d meet at 10:15, at Bean Me Up. Well, Alex said they’d meet at 10:15. Michael had wanted to meet at 9, like a normal person, but Alex had shot that down. “Too crowded,” he’d said. That was the whole point of this, though – a public place, less chance of Alex getting all twitchy and shooting him, knocking him out, drugging him… take your damn pick. Michael had acquiesced, though. Didn’t mean he was going to go in unprepared. It’s 10am, and he’s fully planning to get the lay of the land before Alex…

Alex is already here. Parked on his ass at a corner table, back to the wall, looking jumpy as hell. Michael heaves a sigh and walks over to him.

Alex narrows his eyes. “You’re early.”

“So are you.” Alex shrugs a shoulder, and Michael looks down at his mug. Coffee, black. “I’m going to go get something.”

He orders a latte and two pastries. Can’t hurt to try to butter Alex up, get him to let his walls down at least a little. He goes to pay, and the woman at the counter shakes her head. “On the house,” she says. Michael frowns a little, not understanding. She flicks her eyes toward Alex. “You’re with him, right?” Michael gives a small nod, and the woman nods back, leans in a bit. “It’s good he’s out. It’s… it’s been a long time since he’s been in here.”

Something… something in Michael’s chest catches, as he hears the woman’s words. He knows he can’t really stare at Alex right now, can feel his gaze boring into him as it is, but he just… he wishes he knew what happened. No, more than that, he wishes that whatever happened to Alex had just… never happened. He’s not sure if he should include himself in that wish, too.

He musters up a smile for the cashier and leaves a nice tip, then uses a little hint of power to balance everything and walk back to Alex’s table. Because he can. It had taken hours to get his powers back, even after he’d safely returned to the hotel room last night. Scientist that he is, he’d taken little samples of blood and urine as soon as he’d gotten back, and had stashed them in the room’s mini fridge. At the time, he hadn’t been sure if he was even going to stay overnight. There were only so many places to stay near Roswell, and Alex was a local, surely knew them all. If he did decide to sic his dad or the government on him, it wouldn’t take them long to find him.

Dammit, though, he wanted that piece of the ship in Alex’s bunker. He wanted the pieces at the Emporium and the warehouse, too, like Alex had mentioned. And he wanted to know what was on Jim Valenti’s computer. The way Alex is sipping his coffee, glowering at him, he’s still not sure if he made the right choice.

“Want a bearclaw or a cinnamon roll?” Michael asks, spreading out his offerings.

Alex stares at him. “You have a preference?” Michael shakes his head, and Alex grabs the cinnamon roll. Chews it greedily.

There hadn’t been much food at the cabin. Fresh food, anyway. Lots of canned goods. And he hadn’t seen the fridge. Just doesn’t… doesn’t seem like Alex really takes care of himself all that well. Michael frowns. Not that he has a ton of room to talk. He mostly just lives off of takeout, at grad school. He’s so busy at the lab that his apartment’s mostly just a crash pad. A place to sleep and, very occasionally, have sex…

Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking about _that_ right now. He takes in Alex’s appearance. He… he’s still Alex. Even with the long hair, the, the injury, the facial hair…

Wait.

Michael narrows his eyes. “You, you trim your beard?”

Alex’s eyes widen momentarily before he looks down. Avoids Michael’s gaze. “I… a little. Was due for it.”

It’s neater. Michael can actually see Alex’s jawline, the shape of his face. In fact, Alex’s whole appearance is a little more… put together? He’s wearing a thick flannel shirt, and his hair looks freshly washed.

“How’s the cinnamon roll?”

“It’s good.”

“Bearclaw’s good too. You come here a lot?”

Alex scoffs a little. “No.”

Michael looks over toward the counter and inadvertently locks eyes with the cashier, who is watching them with a hopeful look on her face. Clearly embarrassed at being caught, she looks away quickly, and Michael smirks. “Well that’s interesting, cause the cashier gave me all this for free once she figured out I was meeting you.”

Alex rolls his eyes a little. “Yeah, that would be Gina. She’s worked here a while, even back before…” He trails off. Reaches for his coffee mug, then pauses and fixes Michael with a flat stare. “They had a big parade for me here, when I got back. After I got hurt. Whole damn town knows who I am.”

Michael quirks an eyebrow. “Bet you love that.”

Alex gives a dark little laugh. “You know it.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes after that, just eating their pastries, drinking their coffee. They observe each other, too. Michael sees how Alex scans each new person that comes in the coffeeshop, watches the way he tracks Michael’s every movement...

“Didn’t know that you’d actually meet me here today,” Alex finally says.

“Almost didn’t,” Michael replies, voice serious. “After how yesterday went…” He leans in. “You can’t do something like that to me again, okay? Not if we’re gonna work together.”

Alex’s eyes widen. “Is that what we’re doing? Working together?”

Annoyance flares up. “You tell me, Manes. I’m sitting here at the place of your choosing, at the time of your choosing, after a… less than warm welcome yesterday.”

Alex seems a little chastened at that, bites his lip. “Yeah.”

Michael looks at him expectantly. “Just ‘yeah’?”

Alex’s brow furrows. “What is it you want me to say, Guerin?”

“Um, sorry, maybe?”

“Fuck…” Alex mutters. “Look. You were on my property, you tell me you’re…” he drops his voice, “not from around here, I find out that Jim had a fucking bunker below ground where he was hoarding spaceship parts and a computer with some pretty advanced security features on it, trying to keep god knows what hidden?” Alex is flexing his hand almost unconsciously. “It was a lot.”

“Yeah,” Michael says tightly.

Alex sighs. “I’m running some shit on the computer as we speak. I’ll probably be through the encryption by the time I get back, and I’ll know more about whatever Jim was trying to hide.”

“You’re really not going to apologize?”

“Jesus…” Alex mutters. “I’m sorry, okay?” He leans back in his chair, glares at Michael. Then all too suddenly, he’s raking a hand over his face, into his hair. “Look,” he says, voice low. “I’m kind of fucked up. The military, my dad, my leg… it, it all kind of did a number on me, okay?” He shakes his head. “I’m not, not great with people. Never was, really – I mean, you remember high school, all the bullshit?”

Michael frowns. “That, that wasn’t you though, it was everyone else.”

Alex pauses at that, and there’s something in his face, something almost… surprised? It’s gone quickly, though. “I, I don’t spend a lot of time around people. Don’t trust them.”

Michael gives a half-smile. “Well, lucky for you I’m not a person, then.”

It startles Alex, Michael can tell, to the point where he actually laughs a little, takes a long sip of coffee. “Guess that’s true,” he finally says. And for a moment, Alex’s gaze drops away from Michael’s eyes, moves down to his lips, his neck, his chest. Alex swallows hard, then, and looks down. Takes another sip of coffee. “Look, Guerin, I am sorry about the way I reacted yesterday. It was overkill, and it definitely… definitely got us off on the wrong foot, especially if we are going to be working together. I feel like, like we should start over.”

And somehow, Michael can sense that this is a big deal to Alex. That this admission is costing him something, and he wants to reward it. “Okay,” he says, voice softer now. He clears his throat a little, and affects an overly surprised face. “Oh my god, Alex Manes? Dude, it’s been like ten years! How’ve you been?”

Alex gives him a confused look.

“Can’t believe I ran into you here, man – what are the chances?”

And Alex seems to get it now. Rolls his eyes, but plays along. “Michael Guerin, right?”

“That’s me,” Michael says. He takes a breath. “Always has been, Alex. Really.” He swallows. “What have you been up to, these past ten years?”

“Joined the Air Force.”

“No shit…”

They talk for over two hours. Almost three. Gina is beaming.

If the purpose of today’s outing was to build some trust back up, it’s working. Michael gets to hear about some of Alex’s military buddies, some of his travels, and Michael shares information about his research and his life in Albuquerque. They avoid hard topics. They’re both tentative at first, but by the end Michael sees some of Alex’s old dry wit coming through, some of the snark from back in school.

Then Michael’s stomach rumbles. It’s loud, and he knows Alex hears it, too. “What do you say we go by the Crashdown? Get some lunch?” Michael suggests.

And all of a sudden, Alex’s face shutters. “It’s probably crazy right now, with the lunch crowd.”

Michael frowns a little. “It… it’s Roswell. How crazy could it be?”

Alex sighs. “Listen, I’m glad you came here today, but I’ve got leftovers at my place I should probably eat, so…”

“Seriously?” Michael sighs. “Is… do you want, like, a break from me? Or is it something about the Crashdown specifically?”

Alex looks uncomfortable. “It’s not you, Michael. It’s just… god, it’s just that, since I got back, I just… I don’t like it when there’s a bunch of people, you know? It’s hard to keep track of everyone, and I can’t just like, relax, okay? It’s a bunch of PTSD shit that makes me real fun to be around, so I just spare people the pleasure.”

Michael purses his lips. “How ‘bout takeout?” Alex looks at him. “I didn’t just come back to Roswell for the first time in ten years to _not_ have the enchiladas.”

Alex looks thoughtful. “Where would we eat it? My place? Your hotel?”

Michael shakes his head quickly. “No. Don’t get me wrong, Manes, this morning was real nice. I feel like we made some progress, you know? But I still don’t want to be in a room alone with you.” Alex huffs a breath. “There still that park, though? By city hall? With the picnic benches?” Michael looks down. “Used to eat dinner out there sometimes when the weather was nice and I had no place to go…”

He chances a glance at Alex. Any irritation that was previously there is gone now, and he’s looking at Michael with full attention. “The park sounds good,” he finally says, softly. “Enchiladas sound good, too. It’s been a long time,” he murmurs. He frowns then, looks at Michael. “You mind going in to pick them up? I, I’ll give you money for them,” he adds quickly. “It’s just that Arturo, he’s Liz’s dad, Liz Ortecho?”

“Sure, I know,” says Michael, and of _course_ he knows. How many times has it been now that Liz and Max have gotten together, broken up, come back together… But shit, does Alex know that? Michael is trying to keep Max and Isobel off the radar as much as possible, and the Liz connection makes it harder to do that.

“She and I were close in high school,” Alex says, as if Michael doesn’t remember. “Haven’t talked to her in a really long time, but if her dad sees me, he’ll definitely want to talk, probably try to comp my meal, and I just…” He sighs wearily. “It’s been a long day for me already. Like, this is probably more people than I usually see in weeks, and it’s not even 1pm.”

“I’ll get the enchiladas,” Michael says. “But you do have to answer one question first.”

“Okay,” Alex says warily.

“Little Green Man Sauce or Red Planet Sauce?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say hi on tumblr (aewriting).


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